The 11th Hour
by A Northern Irish man
Summary: It's 2044. The world's a mess and Blane is alone and retired. But when a terrorist cell threaten the entire world with starting WW3 Blane must saddle up once more and work with an old friend to save the world. *Third in Series*
1. Home Alone

**Hey Folks. Yep, New story. Ok this is pretty different from my other stories. This story is really just going to be following Blane so sorry to any of my fan's who are upset by this. Final note. I was either going to call this "The Final Hours" or "The 11th Hour" So in the reviews feel free to say which one you think is the better title.**

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><p>The year was 2044 and the world was still a mess. War still ravished across the 3rd world countries and Britain didn't do anything unless they would benefit from it, whether it is, oil, coal or more cheap labourers to make trainers. Families were still unemployed with their children rioting in the streets. And the earth was still choking in the fumes made by the corporations. No one took notice as long as their leaders said everything was and the TV kept working so they could watch the mind numbing shows that were some how classed 'Entertainment.'<p>

Blane however knew the truth, the death, the horror; the inhumanity that he faced day to day for the past 40 years was enough to send someone into insanity. So Blane hid the truth from himself, drowned it in the single malt scotch whiskey that sat on his coffee table in front of him, no ice. He took large, quick gulps and stared down his feet. Occasionally he would scratch his rough five o'clock shadow, he didn't bother shaving anymore. He wondered around the flat with the glass in one hand, the bottle in the other. I stood in the living room, up against the large window, which gave him a good view of the city of London. He stared out blankly at the thriving city in the middle of the night. Blane lightly and slowly mouthed counting to 10. Blane knew that once he hit 10 there would be at least one stabbing. He sighed heavily and turned away from the city. As he turned the glass slipped from his hand. In Blane's mind it was like the glass fell in slow motion, the glass tumbled as the scotch flew out in a spiral. Blane could have caught it; with years of training catching a falling glass would be child's play but Blane didn't do anything. He just glared at it. He didn't see the point in saving it. He didn't see the point in a lot of things nowadays. The glass smashed on impact, shards shot out in every direction and a small pool of scotch slowly began to spread out. Blane looked down at the hand that had been holding the glass, it was shaking. As he stared at his twitchy hand there was an echoing in his mind and suddenly the sounds of tires screeching roared in his eyes. His eyes instantly glazed over in anger. His shaking hand became a clenched fist with white knuckles. As the screeching became too loud to bare Blane screamed and through his fist towards the wall. His fist went straight through the dry wall. The fist sat nestled in the wall for a few moments while he calmed himself and his mind quietened again. He returned to his neutral state of total emptiness. He slowly inspected his hand and concluded there was nothing wrong. He looked at the glass then around him. He took a heavily sigh and decided to go out for a walk to get some air. As he turned towards the door he suddenly stopped and looked down at himself with a sudden realisation. He was in a messy white t-shirt, faded grey pyjamas bottoms and a furry light blue dressing gown; it was a Christmas present Daisy gave him from god knows how long. He headed for his bedroom to get a change of clothing. He entered into the near pinch black room that was faintly lit by streetlights outside. He stood in the darkness for a few moments before clicking the lights on. Only one side of the bed was being used. The only was well made, neat and had barely been touched in years. Blane wondered over to his wardrobe and got changed. A red and white-checkered shirt, a tattered black flight jacket, loose fit jeans and a pair of faded work boots. He had one last look in the mirror to check if he could finally recognise the man that stared back at him. He looked, no hope. Blane Whittaker had become something not even he could recognise.

Blane walked outside onto the street and looked down both ways of the street, contemplating which way to go. He finally decided on left. Blane walked through the seedy streets that London had become. Dark alleys, flickering lights. Blane didn't like calling it home but it was. The air was cold so Blane popped his collar, kept his head down and shoved his hands deep into his pocket. The streets were pretty quiet, there were few cars on the road and when there were they would come in large but short bursts. Cars would whizz past him and his hair would be thrown around his face. The icy air began to prick at Blane's ears and nose so he decided to get out of the cold.

Blane cut left and entered into a small corner shop. The place was deserted, only a middle aged Indian man who was presumably the owner. The lights gave off a pale white tinge that made the shop feel like a hospital word. As Blane entered there was near complete silence, only the dull buzz from the lights and radio, which played the Beatles song from their psychedelic phase. As Blane walked in he glanced at the Indian man and they shared a quickly smile and nod of pleasant acknowledgement. Blane headed to the back where the alcohol was kept. He inspected the selection and decided on some Cider, drink lightly tonight. Blane knelt down to grab a bottle of Magners cider off the bottle. As he got down 'Back in the USSR' began to play but over the song he heard footsteps, they were getting faster, and louder. There was a thud of the shop door as it was thrown open. There was shouting, two young, hesitant voices. Blane stayed down but looked up at the mirror that was placed in the top corner of the shop, which allowed him to see everything that was happening. They were two young guys, basically children in Blane's eyes. One was white with a red anorak jacket that had the hood pulled up; he was holding a glock 17. The other was a black boy in white Nike hoody and navy blue baseball cap that was pushed down low to cover his face; he was carrying a mini Uzi. It was obvious to Blane that people would presume the black boy was the _leader_ because that was how the world worked.

"Give us the money, Blood." The hooded boy in the exclaimed. The boy in the cap didn't speak. The shop owner had his hands up next to his face. "The money!" The sweat began to pour off the man's face in fear. Blane was still knelt in cover. Blane took a deep inhale full of disappointment.

Blane grabbed a bottle of Cider and stood up. He silently and quietly lined himself up with boy in the cap. He rushed up to the boy in the cap and he got closer he hurled the bottle at the hooded boy. The bottle struck him in the back of head, which flopped him forward. He fell and slammed his face on the counter, leaving blood smears and teeth on it. The second boy spun around to fire but Blane dodged left and grabbed his wrist. The boy began to fire but Blane pushed his wrist and he fired towards the ceiling. Blane tripped the boy up and through him into the glass door refrigerator, which his head went straight through. Blane took a deep breath of relaxation then reached through the hole of the glass, passing the head that was still firmly stuck there and grabbed a carton of milk. He approached the counter where the Indian man still had his hands up, he still seemed nervous.

"You can put your hands down." Blane said reassuringly as he set milk on the counter. The man smiled nervously but began to relax as he lowered his hands. As Blane looked down at the milk carton he suddenly remembered what he was going to get it. He rushed back and grabbed another bottle of cider. As he returned the hooded boy that now had blood gushing from his mouth began to moan and tried to lift himself but Blane send him back down and out with the heel of his boot. "Sorry." Blane apologised and cracked an embarrassed smile.

"No!" said the man as Blane reached for his wallet. "Please, take what you like. It's the least I could do." He grinned at a taken back Blane.

"Ok. Well I'll take these and also could I get a pack of Benson and Hedges please?" Blane requested as he pointed to the cigarette rack behind him. The man quickly obliged. "Thanks. You might wanna phone the police about these two, I wouldn't bother with an ambulance." They exchanged a smile and Blane left casually.

Blane walked out onto the street and headed home. In the distance, in an alley on the opposite side of the street sat a jet black BMW Series 3. The windows weren't tinted but long shadows that spread across the car hid their identity. Blane noticed it straight away; it was inconspicuous, so inconspicuous it stuck out. He caught it in the corner of his eye but decided not to react. He instead carried on and kept an eye out.

Blane arrived home and approached his front door. As he reached it he stopped. He looked suspiciously at the door then looked around him. He raised his hand to the door and poked it, the door then opened wide with a loud and prolonged creak. Someone was here. He took a small step inside and flicked the lights on. The lights shot on and an irritating sight faced Blane.

In the dark red leather Victorian chair, which Daisy once adored, sat Adrian Baker, respected Intelligence Chief and overall smug individual. Blane and he never truly got on. While Blane got places through hard work and skill, Adrian got them through wealth. He got on Cambridge education and had attended several luxurious private schools before that and this lead him to treat everyone else like simple-minded commoners, he was worse than the worm. Adrian sat in his sapphire blue three-piece suit with a maroon red tie. To the left of him stood a heavy built man in black polo neck sweater with a charcoal grey suit over it. There were two other men who stood opposite each other against the walls in similar outfits.

"Hello Blane. It's been a while." Adrian said with an unwelcome smile.

"What do you want Baker?" Blane asked as he strolled in. "Just in the neighbourhood?" Blane smirked to himself and left to put the milk in the fridge.

"We were wanting to see how you were?"

"Me? I'm great. Just peachy." Blane stated out of sight in the kitchen. Adrian and his guards looked over at the gapping how in the wall but didn't say anything.

"Blane I'll try cut straight to the point." Adrian cleared his throat. "We need you back. It is of critical importance." All they heard was a chuckle from Blane.

"I'm not sure if anyone mentioned to you." Blane began as he remerged into the room, holding the cider bottle and drinking straight from it. "But I quit."

"We are well aware of that." Adrian looked away. "But we need your help, just for one more mission."

"Let me guess." Blane took a drink of his cider and lent on the wall. "You wanna invade another country for oil and you wanna look like you actually made an effort to find WMD's. I hear Israel is nice this time of year."

"You might find this funny but the fate of the world is at stalk." Adrian stood from the chair to state his seriousness.

"Sure." Blane rolled his eyes and took another drink. "I'll pass on this one but thanks for stopping by." He gave a sarcastic smile.

"Please Blane." Adrian placed his hand on Blane's shoulder. "If Daisy was here you know she would want you to help save the day, even for just one more time."

Time stopped in Blane's mind. How dare he say that? Blane looked at the hand on his shoulder then stared down at Adrian. The screeching was back and he could hear screaming this time. They got louder and once they reached their peak Blane hit Adrian with a swift uppercut, which sent him back and onto his ass. The guards stood forward, ready to beat Blane to a pulp (or at least try) but Adrian raised his hand to stop them.

"How dare you? How the fuck dare? You didn't know her. So don't come in here telling me what she would want." Blane exclaimed with a great fury as he glared down at Adrian.

"Yes. How rude of me. I'm terribly sorry." The guards helped him up. "But you know Blane. You can't hide from the world forever." They began to leave but before he left Adrian took out a business card and placed it on the phone table by the keys. "Just think about it. You know where to find us."

And almost instantly he and his men were gone and Blane was left alone in total silence.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed! Sorry if it sucks, still getting into the swing of things. Also there might be slight gaps in chapters... Sorry. Please R&amp;R<strong>


	2. The News Report

**Hey y'all. Sorry for the long wait for an update. I've had major work to do. Hope you enjoy**

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><p>There was a pure white light. It blinded Blane to the core of his retina. There was nothing to see except utter blankness. Blane could only hear. There was the sound of the light summer breeze. The sound of flowing swings and rotating roundabouts along with the sound of whimsical cheers from the children playing on them. The sounds grew louder and then there was a faint whisper. A voice Blane knew all to well whispered 'I love you.' Suddenly the whisper turned into a scream and there was no words, just muddled syllables. The screaming stopped. All he could hear now was the whaling of tyres as the car sped away. The whaling faded and there was silence, a deathly silence<p>

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt up right. The sweat poured down from his forehead straight down to his chest. Blane's breaths were deep and heavy. It was pitch black but he could still everything clearly. He looked over and picked up his alarm clock, it was 6:32 am. Blane slowly got out of the bed and stumbled over to the bathroom. Blane took a long hot shower to freshen up. Once he finished he got dressed into some cream cargo pants and a black Rolling Stones t-shirt with the classic red lips and tongue, Blane had come to love the band while spending a year covertly in Iran. He made his way into the living room and flicked on the TV, the early BBC news was all that was on. While the news began Blane prepared himself some breakfast, toast, in the kitchen, he turned the volume up slightly as to be able to listen to it while away. He waited in for the toast while they went through the light-hearted stories in the other room. As the toast popped up ready for consumption they moved onto a story that caught his attention

"Arguments broke out in the early hours of this morning between China and America after an supposed American attack on an Chinese power station in the Jilin province of North-east China." Said the news presenter. Blane turned around a popped his head into the living room. "Some Chinese officials believe the attack was executed by American forces though intelligence sources close to the Chinese government was quick to suggest the attack was Orchestrated by the East Turkestan Liberation Organization."

"Christ." Blane muttered. He knew this was what Adrian was there for, he could just tell. Blane glanced at the table where he keys were where Adrian left his card. Blane approached it, contemplating whether to contact him with each step. He got to it, picked up the card and the phone then suddenly froze. After a moment of silence Blane dialled and rang the number.

"Hello?" Adrian asked through a yawn as he picked up.

"It Blane. I saw the news report." Blane responded in a calm but serious tone.

"Well." Adrian took a pause. "I'll assume you see the gravity of the situation."

"Only this one time. Then I'm out, for good."

"I know. I know." Adrian said with a little chuckle. "Vauxhall Cross. 9.00am. We will see you there."

"We?" Blane asked cautiously.

"I think its best I don't disclose any more details until the meeting." Adrian was about to hang up. "Oh yes, one more thing. I knows its been a while for you but," he paused, not knowing how to put it, "can you wear something a little more, office appropriate. You know how people can be in this line of work."

"Sure." Blane said just before hanging up. Blane searched through his wardrobe to find a suit. After a few minutes of rummaging he found a light gray check woollen suit with a plain white shirt and black tie to go with it.

He laid it all out on the bed and as he stood up he caught his reflection in the mirror, he needed to shave. Blane went to the bathroom and covered his beard with shaving foam. He produced the razor and slowly began to run it down his cheeks, removing his facial hair. Blane got a strange feeling from the experience of running a blade across his skin; it almost felt like he was reminiscing. Blane quickly shaved moved onto getting dressed. He got into the suit that he hadn't worn in years and popped on some dress shoes. Just Blane was about to leave he stared into the mirror and smiled. He saw himself, someone he hadn't seen in a very long time.

Blane left the flat and entered onto a dull city, the sun had just barely risen and wasn't going to reach over the tops of the skyscrapers for quite a while. Blane went to grab his car from the building's garage. The shutters opened and Blane surveyed the area to find his car, a dark purple Ford Mustang, Daisy had chosen the colour because it screamed out royalty and class to her, Blane didn't love the colour but liked the fact she loved it so they got it. Blane got in, started the car, toned the radio and drove off. As Blane pulled out onto the street the boy-band Crush began to play on the radio, one of their old songs from back in the days when Daisy was a mega-fan of the group. Almost as soon as they began to sing Blane groaned in annoyance and switched station where 'Beyond the Sea' by Bobby Darin, an old 50's song, began to play. The annoyed expression on his face soon changed in a chummy smile thanks to the cheery tone of the song. Blane drove along the vacant roads, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the song and others that came on after it. Blane inspected the time on the car's clock. It was 7:46 am; he had a lot of time to kill. He pulled in and parked. He went into an early open Starbucks and got a plain black filtered coffee. After drinking it quietly in the corner table of the empty café, Blane got back into his car and continued towards Vauxhall Cross. Blane parked up next to the large glass building and just sat there. He glared up at it glass fortress and hesitated about going inside. He hadn't entered that building in more than a decade. After a few minutes of deep breathing and heavy thinking Blane got out and slowly walked in.

He entered into the large reception. The tapping of his shoes hitting the marble flooring echoed through it. Blane reached the front desk, which was manned by a petite girl with short, curly ginger hair.

"Hi." Blane said lightly as he placed his hands on the glass desk. "I'm here for a meeting with Adrian Baker."

"Name?" the Reception said as she looked down at a business diary in front of her.

"Blane Whittaker." He replied. The girl stared up at him and silently gasped

"You're Blane Whittaker?" she asked with amazement.

"Yeah." Blane looked away uncomfortably. "So is he here?"

"No. But you can go up to floor 4 if you want. Mr. Baker's office is on that floor." Blane gave a faint smile and left for the elevator. As he made his way he heard the clicking of phone keys "Jen? It's Louise. You. Will. Never. Believe who is coming up to the 4th. The Burning Man." She ended with a squeal.

As Blane made his way up the elevator he thought about the name the Secretary had used when referring to him. _The Burning Man. Who the hell came up with that_. The elevator doors dinged open and Blane emerged onto the 4th floor. He wondered around for a while, the floor was practically empty, mainly cleaners and some of the younger analyst. After a couple of minutes of searching he found the kitchen. He made himself a coffee and proceeded to stare blankly out the glass window/wall. 9.00 o'clock came around quickly but Adrian still hadn't arrived. Blane continued to wait but it started to make him inpatient. It reached 9.20 and the elevator doors open and Blane instantly heard Adrian's pompous laugh.

"Yeah I know. She actually buys store brands. Its sad really." Adrian said out of sight with a chuckle. Blane gritted his teeth.

"At least she put out." Another voice said. Along with voice there was the sound of wheels squeaking. Blane paused then turned the corner to meet the two. As he turned the corner she suddenly stopped, nearly walking straight into the second man. The second man was in a wheel chair, it was Dylan Touser, acclaimed expert in missile defence (and offence) Blane's and Dylan's paths had across in the past but had been years since their last encounter. "Wow! Jesus. Blane is that you."

"Yep." Blane replied with a half smile. Blane extended his hand for a handshake. Dylan accepted the invitation. They shook hands as Adrian looked on, with a series of files tucked under his arm.

"Right. Lets get started. Shall we?" Adrian interjected as he gestured towards a mission room. They made their way into the room. There was a large screen mounted on the wall with a large conference table in the centre. The lights were dim and gave the room an eerie atmosphere.

They stood around the table as Adrian set the files open on the table for all of them to look at. Blane flicked through a file.

"Blane we've got a serious problem." Adrian stated.

"As always." Blane jokingly muttered to himself. He continued to read through the files "So you've got a terror cell on your hands."

"Yes. But we've never had anything like this."

"They're arming themselves." Dylan explained. He cleared with through. "They're….. Planning on starting another global conflict."

"Let me guess. With Russia?" asked Blane

"Russia, China, North Korea, Iran, anyone who has the resources to grind us into dust" Adrian answered.

"Let me guess. We'll have a bunch of cowboys from the CIA running the show." Blane said as he rolled his eyes is annoyance. Dylan and Adrian looked at each other awkwardly.

"The terrorist cell is." Began Adrian but then suddenly went silent.

"Their American." Dylan continued. " So we can't trust any yanks." Blane's jaw dropped slightly, this was serious. Blane grabbed another file and read through it. It was full of photos of suspected members of the group.

"Any idea who the head is?" Blane asked while he continued to flick through the photos.

"We ummmm." Adrian said as he looked down at the floor with utter embarrassment. "Don't know that either. What we do know is that he usually goes by the name Mr. Green."

_How idiotic is he?_ Blane thought to himself.

"So what. We're going to stop World War III all by ourselves?"

"No actually." Adrian smiled. "We're working with another intelligence agency. They're very concerned about this and want to avoid a war."

"Who? Or are you going to continue to keep me in suspense." Blane joked.

"Well. The GRU."

"The GRU?" Blane's jaw dropped slightly more. Adrian nodded. "The Russians. We are going to be working with the Russians."

"Yes. We know. Its crazy." Dylan reassured. "But we really need this. They're sending one of their top agents."

Suddenly there was a tapping from the corridor. All three turned around to see a figure standing in the doorway. It was a man. He had a black cane with a metal top in the shape of a snakehead. He wore a pitch black suit and tie with a venetian red shirt. He had a casual hairstyle, which parted to the left. He wore aviator sunglasses that hid his eyes and made him look mysterious. Blane couldn't help but squint his eyes in suspicion.

"Hi Blane." Said the man. He voice. It was so familiar to Blane but it couldn't possibly be him.

"David?" Blane's jaw was now left wide open. The man grinned from one side of his face to the other.

"Its good to see you."

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><p><strong>There you go. Hope you liked it. Sorry again for the delayed update. Please R&amp;R<strong>


	3. The Poke

**Hello. Sorry for the big pause, I know you hate it but I've been extremely busy the past couple of months. Summer's coming up so I'll start uploading more**

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><p>As Blane gazed at his old friend with his grin of pure bliss Blane's mood began to brighten. With his life now full of dark memories and bad headaches seeing David gave him a light glitter of hope, like days now long since past.<p>

"Who's David?" Adrian confusingly inquired. "Blane this is Viktor. He's our GRU agent."

"Have you two met before?" Dylan asked as he noticed how they smile at one other. They smiled like best friends.

"Our paths have cross a few times." David/Viktor said.

"But it's been a long time." Blane added.

"Too long." David/Viktor finished as he approached Blane. They stood in front of each other, contemplating a handshake but David/Viktor went straight for a comforting hug. After a few moments they pulled away.

"Viktor?" Blane asked jokingly.

"Yeah, apparently David Hughes doesn't sound Russian enough." He replied with a smile. "So they call me Viktor now. Just Viktor, no surname."

"Right. You'll still be David to me." Blane smiled back. "And what's with the cane?" Blane pointed down.

"Oh this." David lifted it and twirled it around. "Its just for style. And beating people with." He gave a off a light chuckle. Adrian loudly coughed to get their attention

"If we could get down business." Adrian said with a cold and serious tone. The two buddies went to the table.

"Right now we're all here I think it's important to establish a plan of action." Adrian stated. David ignored him and flicked through the files. Adrian began to get annoyed. "Oh I'm sorry Viktor do you have something to add."

"This guy." David began. He took one of the photos from the files and placed it on the table. It was a pretty young guy, late 20's at best. He had dirty blonde hair in a military haircut. The photo was of him getting into a yellow taxicab. "His name is Private 1st class Jonathan Holmes, 75th Ranger Infantry Airborne Regiment."

"How do you know who he is?" Dylan asked shocked.

"We're been keeping tabs on him for the past couple of months, he joined them last year."

"And you never thought to inform us of this." Exclaimed an enraged Adrian. Having someone who knew more than him really got to him.

"Yeah because we are totally going to phone up and say we've been spying on a bunch of Americans." He replied sarcastically. This wasn't doing him any favours with Adrian's temper. "Look. We want to avoid World War III as much as you do."

"Yes you're right." Dylan said smiling as he tried to calm Adrian. "What else do you know about him?"

"Well. He's currently in France, Marseille. The weapons manufacturer, Combattant, They've got a storage facility there. We've got confirmation that Holmes and a unit are going to rob the place in about." David looked at his watch. "7 hours"

"And you just going to let them do it." Said Adrian angrily.

"Well yeah. We stop them after they rob it and we'll have a better idea of their plans." David began to explain when suddenly a phone started to ring. There was a faint buzz and the sound of muffled pretentious opera music. Adrian's cheeks went pink as he coughed awkwardly. The others glared at him.

"Sorry." Adrian said as he fumbled for his phone out of his pocket. He looked at it, grinned profusely and answered immediately. "Hey Ben," he exclaimed. _Ben_ was Benjamin Morris, current Conservative Prime Minister and good friend of Adrian. He continued chatting for a moment as the others looked on. His hand covered the mouthpiece for a moment and he turned to the others. "This will take a few minutes. Go and take a break." Blane and David left frustrated and made something to drink. They stood by the large window and stared out at the city as it began to awake in the sunlight.

"You ever wonder we still do this?" David asked through a sigh as he looked over at Blane

"Do What?" Blane questioned in response.

"Saving the world."

"I ask myself that question every second." Blane smiled then laughed. "Hell I'm asking myself that question right now. I'm meant to be retired." David laughed to himself.

"In this business you never retire." David pulled off his sunglasses and looked Blane in the eye, David's eye was still milky white and despite the years the scar was still very visible. "We just get to take long breaks."

"Hey guys. We're ready for you again." Dylan said from the door to the mission room. Blane and David entered again, now with their drinks. Adrian was putting his phone away.

"So what do we do now?" Adrian began to ask but was interrupted by David taking a purposefully long and loud sip of his drink.

"Do we have any idea on who the leader is?" Blane inquired.

"Sort of." Dylan explained. "The leader is a shadowy figure who goes by the name _Mr. Green_."

"Anything else?"

"We know he's English." Adrian embarrassingly added.

"That's all I need to know." David ended with a smile. "Lets go. I've got a jet waiting for us Heathrow." David began to leave with Blane. As they walked towards the elevator Adrian ran after them shouting.

"Hey. Stop there!" Adrian yelled but David and Blane only stopped and turned around once they reached the elevator doors. Adrian ran right up to David "Listen here _Viktor_." Adrian began to poke David in the chest in a forceful way in an attempt to install authority. "I don't care if you're with another agency. You report straight to me. Got it?" He continued to jab David with his finger. David took a deep breathe through his nose and looked down at the finger. He looked back up into Adrian's eyes, who still persisted in poking. Without a moment's warning David grabbed the finger and instantaneously snapped it sideways. Adrian yelped like a puppy, jumping back and detracting his hand close to him.

"You're lucky I only broke it." David said coldly as he placed his sunglasses on again. The elevator door opened and the two got in. As the door closed Blane turned to David.

"You haven't changed one bit." Blane smirked. David replied with a chuckle as he reached over to press the ground floor button. Blane noticed a Celtic symbol tattoo on his knuckle. "What's with the tattoo?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I thought I'd stick to my roots."

"Roots? I thought you were meant to be Russian."

"No, no. I'm just working for them." David smiled.

The elevator door opened and they exited onto the ground floor. The emerged back onto the busy streets of London. Perched next to the pavement in front of the Vauxhall building was a sharp white Porsche Cayman with a red leather interior. David took out the keys and grinned at Blane. They hopped in and David sped away to the airport.

They arrived on the runway where the Antonov An-22 cargo plane was getting reach for take off. Men stood around in shirts and ties but with ballistic vest over the top of them. David slowed down and rolled down the window. One of the men walked over to investigate us but as soon as he saw David a smile grew on his face and he immediately signalled to open the plane's ramp. The ramp lowered and they drove onto the plane.

"Here we go again I guess." David said with a green as he looked over at Blane.

Despite the loss, the death, the sacrifice, Blane was kind of glad we was an agent again and God knows what was to come.

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><p><strong>Sorry for a short and boring chapter. I've got my A-levels coming up. After May 31st, then I'll update again. Please R&amp;R<strong>


	4. France

**So..umm...Hi. I know most of you will be angry with me for not updating in months but I've had a lot on my plate but I promise I'll wrap this up before summer ends**

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><p>They parked the car in the cargo plane and got out. David left immediately to check up on the schedule. Blane stood leaning against the car, pondering what lay ahead. The plane rumbled and lightly shook as it. Anything that already wasn't tied or bolted down slid or rolled back. After a while Blane became tired of waiting around and began to wonder around. Close-by he found weapon crates. Pistols, assault<p>

Rifles, sniper rifles, even a couple of grenade launchers. They were all U.S military grade. Blane smirked; David was still up still his old tricks. Blane then spotted a long slender silver case set amongst the crates. He picked it up, flipped the locks and opened it up. Blane raised an eyebrow. It was a black metal Bow and Arrow.

"What is he? Hawkeye." Blane quietly laughed to himself.

"Blane. Admiring our gear." Said David from behind. Blane turned around. David changed clothes. He was now in a black long sleeve t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans and black work boots. Most of importantly he was wearing a black eye-patch, which covered his robotic eye. Blane tried to hold back his laughter.

"Aye, Aye Captain."

"Hilarious." David said with a smile. He tossed Blane a sports bag full of the same black clothes. "Get changed. We'll be there in about an hour and a half."

They spent the rest of the flight planning, going over logistics and re-reading the files on Holmes.

It was dark already. David was positioned on the roof of the building opposite the storage facility. Crouched down in the shadows, David gripped his in anticipation. Across the street, on the roof of the facility, sat Blane who was less thrilled about the situation. Nonetheless Blane was there, prepping his gear for repelling. Time went by and Blane activated the communicator in his ear to David.

"What time did you say they were going to be here?"

"11.50" David replied

"Well its 12.30." Blane huffed as he looked at his watch.

"Come on, relax. When have you ever known the Americans to arrive on him?" David joked. "How late were they showing up for the last two World Wars?"

Blane and David shared a brief chuckle on the communicators. Suddenly there was the distant sound of screeching tyres and a roaring engine. Bright headlights peaked on the far end of the street and quickly made their approach to the facility. It was a red truck and it was head straight for the main doors. The truck drastically swerved and crashed through the front glass doors to facility. The passenger and driver door swung open, along with the shutter door at the back lifted. From all the openings heavily armed men emerged in balaclavas. They rushed except for a couple that stood guard by the truck. Suddenly one lone man emerged from the truck and he removed his mask and ordered the men to shoot to kill. It was Holmes. He looked down both ends of the street nervously before entering.

"Its go time." Said David as he jumped from cover, ready to fire. He fired the arrow and sprinted to his next vantage point. As the first arrow struck the chest of the first man, David leaped to the next roof. As he drifted in mid-air between the buildings he turned and fired his second arrow, hitting the second guard. David didn't have time to turn back and land properly so David was met with a face full of concrete as he reached the second roof and tumbled across it. He lay there for a moment, letting out a faint grunt, and began to laugh to himself. "All clear."

Blane moved to the south side of the building, which looked out towards the Mediterranean Sea. He hooked his gear, holstered his gun and leaped off the building, gripping the rope. He swung back and smashed through a large pane of glass into an office. As soon as he was in he unhooked, kicked a table onto its side and ran to cover. The office door burst open and two men entered, instantly noticing the table. They opened fire on the table, blasting it to smithereens. They paused, seeing there was no one there, they began to reload with Blane appeared from behind them. He pulled out his silenced pistol and placed two rounds into each man's skull. They dropped with a thud and Blane moved on through the building. Blane made his way down a long dark corridor, the farther he went the louder the sound of clanging got. He found an open that light from beaming from. He quickly and quietly made his way to it and perched himself against the wall next to the opening. He peeked around the corner and a large hanger, filled with weapon crates, met his eyes but there was something that caught his eye particularly. The American's were gathering around this one spot in the middle, they were talking amongst themselves and what they were looking at but Blane couldn't make out what it was. He moved closer, across the catwalk to see what they were marvelling at. As soon as he saw it his eyes dilated and a lump gathered in his throat. It was a missile.

"David?" Blane whispered across the comms. "You might want to get in here."

"What is it?" David asked. He was already at street level, inspecting the truck.

"Just get in here."

David entered the building, equipped his REC7. He crept along the walls, making his way to the hanger. He stopped at the door and peaked in. Holmes stood by the missile. He and his men with unscrewing the framework of it. They removed it and Holmes reached his hand inside it and removed a long metal and glass canister. It glowed green and it had a symbol on it. Yellow and Black, the universal symbol for nuclear material. Holmes then placed it in a thick metal briefcase. Both David's and Blane's heartbeats quickened. Blane slowly holstered his pistol and moved for his FN-CAL.

"We're going to have to do this fast." Stated Blane.

"I know. We have to take Holmes alive. And maybe a few others." David explained as he peaked around to observe the other men. He spotted a young man, man being a overstatement. He was a boy, barely out of his teens, with ginger hair and freckles, he certainly did not look liked he'd been part of a terrorist organisation. "The red head next to Holmes. Take him alive."

"Ok." Blane spotted he boy. "How do you want to approach this?"

"American style"

David charged in with his guns blazing. The men had no idea what was going on. They scrambled to cover and tried to return fire but were to off their guard. Blane leap from the catwalk with rapid firing, acting as a kind of aerial assault, and picked off most of the men. Blane dropped down and landed on Holmes, who fell face first to the floor with Blane's feet planed on his back. The ginger, which was by Holmes' side, tried to lift his gun to fire but Blane simply turned and punched him in the throat, crushing his windpipe. The ginger fell instantly to the ground. Wheezing and clutching his neck.

"Right. Now where's that case?" David asked. He spotted it across the hanger. It had been flung over there in a desperate attempt. David walked over to grab it but suddenly the door close to the case swung open and there stood a man from the files. The man hand a pistol and fired instantly. The bullet hit David in shoulder and he fell back, clutching the wound and swearing profusely. Blane rushed to David's side but he waved his hand forward, telling him to go after the case. Blane turned but the case was gone. Blane ran through the door that led outside to a landing pad. A chopper was just taking off from the pad. Blane aimed his gun to fire but dropped it, knowing that it could damage the case and rupture the canister. The chopper flew into the distance and disappeared. Blane ran back to David, who was trying to get himself up. Blane helped him up to his feet.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine." David answered, gritting his teeth. "Let's just interrogate this two."

Holmes awoke slowly. He was stood up, with his hand tied behind his back and his feet bound together. A noose was around his neck. His eyes followed the rope, which drooped down his body and snaked around him and finally moved upwards. The other end of the very long rope was tied to the bottom of an elevator; the dark space in which he was being held was an elevator shaft. His eyes then moved to the only light source, the open elevator doors where the silhouettes of Blane and David stood.

"Hey Johnny. Wake up now. We have some questions for you." David stated. Holmes didn't respond.

"Who is Mr. Green?" Blane asked. No response. "Alright," he turned to David, "Top floor please." David pressed the button and the elevator began to move slowly upwards, taking the rope with it.

"Where are you taking the canister?" David demanded.

"What you trying to accomplish?" asked Blane. Still no answer and the rope was slowly reducing around Holmes. "Just tell us something." Holmes looked up at them with an angry expression

"You think you're government sponsored brutality intimidates him. I am willing to die for my cause." Holmes finished proudly. Blane and David looked at each other and then back to Holmes.

"Well we'd hate to rob you of your pride." David retorted with sarcastic sympathy in his voice. The loose rope had finally run out and it tied around Holmes neck as he was lifted from the ground. The grunting and choking sounds became quieter as he vanished.

The two then moved to a second elevator shaft where the ginger was being held, just like Holmes. He looked up at them with tears streaming down face. David pressed the button straight away then knelt down close to the ginger.

"So kid, we used most of the rope for your pal so you've only got about a minute to answer our questions." David explained. The ginger cried even more.

"Where are they taking the canister?" Blane calmly asked

"Senegal, by the coast. Then they're taking it across the Atlantic. I don't know where after that." He answered

"Who is Mr. Green?"

"I never really met him."

"Never really?"

"I mean I saw him but I never spoke to him. He always wears a Green badge. That's all I can remember. Now please don't hang me."

"Sure thing buddy." David said with a smile.

They then turned around and began to walk away just as his feet started to dangle above the ground. He started screaming for them to help him. Suddenly David spun around and shot him in the head. Fulfilling his request, in a sense. As his corpse disappeared with Holmes' they left the building. They stopped on the street and turned to one another.

"So. Off to Africa." Blane Smirked. "And I forgot to bring sun lotion."

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><p><strong>So I know it wasn't really worth the wait but its a start. after this long its really hard to get into this. But still, please R&amp;R<strong>


	5. Senegal

**So I'm going to try get this story finished as soon as possible before I get distracted with something else. Sorry if it seems rushed or short but I never really intended on making this story long.**

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><p>Southwest Senegal, the sun was just beginning to rise, peaking over the tops of the heavily forestry and painting the sky in a shade of gray. David and Blane were perched down among the tall grass. Blane was in a hunter green shirt; sleeves rolled up, with a shoulder gun holster over it and jungle camouflage combat trousers. The sweat drenched Blane's clothing and ran down his forehead constantly. David however was in a much better situation. David was in a white short sleeve shirt, along with the shoulder holster, and light brown combat trousers. He was even wearing his sunglasses again. If it hadn't been for the many guns in his possession he'd look like he was on holiday. The one thing Blane couldn't get was the sweat, particularly the fact that there wasn't any.<p>

"David?" Blane quietly asked, "Why aren't you sweating?"

"Well." He began to explain. "Back when M.I.9 were going all Frankenstein's monster on me they removed my nerves and all my glands. So I physically can't sweat." David turned and looked through the scope of his M14 sniper rifle. "Minimal activity." He turned back to Blane. "Hey Blane. About Daisy."

"You really want to talk about this now?"

"Well there's not much going on. Look, I'm really sorry about what happened."

"Don't worry about it. It was an accident, there's nothing there you could have done."

"I know. I'm sorry I couldn't come to the funeral though. I'm still technically on the blacklist. Do you still speak to the others?"

"Others?"

"You know, the old team. You know the team that tried to hunt me down." David joked

"Tried? I think you'll find we caught you." Blane grind.

"Caught me? I was leading you lot on the entire time." The two then shared a laugh.

"But no seriously. Haven't heard from them in year. Last I heard Rose was the Head Spy Master at M.I.9. Orchestrating third world rebellions and governmental assassinations, god knows what else. Oscar retired like me."

"Well why didn't they get him in instead of you?"

"Cancer. He was poisoned with Polonium- 350. They put it in his soup."

"Any idea who did it?"

"Well," Blane smile awkwardly, "We thought it was the Russian." David laughed at the theory. "And I haven't heard from Frank in god knows how long. She just dropped off the grid." David's cheerful smile dropped as he looked at the group and cleared his throat.

"Well I know what happened to Frank." David admitted. "Frank committed suicide back in 2026." Blane's smile dropped from his face. "He was sent in by M.I.9 to do some recon on some village routine stuff. They said they suspect there were serious players in the black market in it. He went in to check it out. He told them it was just women and children." David gulped, finding it difficult to finish. "They dropped a predator missile on it anyway, destroyed the entire village. Frank never got over it. So he left. Dropped off the grid, moved to Ecuador and ultimately ended it all."

The mood was brought to a low and there was total silence between the two. Then they suddenly began to hear a heavy rumble coming from the direction of the base. They both quickly looked through their scopes and saw a series of large Kei trucks driving into the base and many of the men scurrying around the place.

"We need to get a better look at that stuff." Blane stated. "Lets move to position Bravo." They two then hurried along a small slope, up onto a ridge that over looked the compound.

The terrorist base was just a long dirt courtyard with a few shacks and cabins around his. The trucks were parked in a convoy formation. Men were moving back and forth between the buildings and trucks, loading cargo onto the back of them. Most of them looked like locals, mercenaries and militia but there were a few men that stood out, those men were part of the terror cell, they were in the files they had looked at. They were running the place

"Looks like the waiting's over." David said as he took off his glasses, attached his silencer and steadied his gun to fire. Blane did the same.

They fired their first shot, which hit one of the men moving crates. As the body fell so did the crate that smashed against the ground. One of the men overlooking the evacuation run to inspect and called over other men. The men gathered and looked around to see anyone close by. As different men moved behind the shacks Blane and David began to pick them off, one by one. Once most of them were taken out one of the terrorists emerged from a cabin and noticed the corpse. He looked around and suddenly saw a white sparkle; the sunlight was bouncing off Blane's scope. He yelled and crowds of men rushed out onto the courtyard. He pointed in the direction of David and Blane and all the men opened fire. With the distance and the fact the men only had pistols and Kalashnikov, all bullets were missing but they might get lucky.

"We need to finish this." Blane quickly said. David analysed the base for a moment before spotting the perfect opportunity. There were a few barrels of gasoline and oil that were naively placed nearby several boxes of ammunition.

"Watch this." David answered with a childish grin. He fired a single shot and hit the barrel. The initial explosion killed a few men but what came next was much more inventive. The heat from the explosion caused the bullets to fire spontaneously by themselves. The bullets sprayed across the entire courtyard, killing the rest of the men. "Sorted."

The two hurried down off the ridge and to the base. They stepped over the pile of bodies and investigate the trucks. The crates were mainly filled with shredded paper, nothing that could be salvaged. They then headed into the main cabin. The walls and tables were covered in papers. Notes, maps, freighter content listings, instructions and dates. The two then began to scan through them to find the terrorist's next step. Blane stood and stared at the wall, trying to take in as much information as possible. There was a map of the United States pinned of the wall. There was a circle drawn in black marker on it, the circle was around Washington. Next to it there was a date and time. 4th of July 04:55pm, that was less than two days away. He started to look around the map and found dozens of newspaper clippings. 'Presidential campaigns begin.' 'Clashes between apposing party policies.' 'Final presidential debates to take place on Independence Day.' Then it dawned on him, they were planning to kill all potential leaders. The continued to analyse the pages and found information about the departure of a cargo ship from DARKA to Venezuela, which left two weeks ago. No doubt they'd be on it.

David saw a laptop in the corner that was still on. He picked it up and looked at the screen. It had a satellite image and a map grid coordinates. David calculated the coordinates and took a heavy inhale panic. The coordinates were where they were. He scrolled down and read 'missile deployed.' He took and step back and turned to Blane.

"Blane I think its time to go." He said trying to act calm.

"In a minutes." He replied.

"No now." David exclaimed.

"We need to analysis all this data." Blane said as he turned to David. "What's the rush anyway?" David picked up the laptop and showed it to Blane.

"Whoever Mr. Green is, he seems to have the activation codes to satellite guided missiles. He's not keen on leaving behind any evidence." He looked at a countdown until impact and it was less than 30 seconds.

"Just give me a minute. I need to finish looking at these."

"Now." David grabbed Blane by the collar of his shirt and started pulling him towards the door. "I've already been blown up once in my life time and I think once is enough. I doubt you'd find it any more enjoyable as I did."

They exited the cabin and left the base but they knew they'd still be in the blast zone. It was flat land both directions of the base so it became a simple matter of running away. They sprinted as fast as they could from the base. David could hear a faint whistle, which was the missile coming close to impact. They continued to run as the missile hit. The explosion rang in their ears and a cloud of smoke shot in all direction. Despite their distance the two of them were flung forward and tumbled along the ground. They lay there until the ringing disappeared. They got up and dusted themselves off. David took out his GPS to find the closes airstrip.

"This way." He stated with a point and they began walking down a long dirt road.

After an hour they reached an airstrip that was basically in the middle of nowhere. When they got there a white private jet was already waiting for them. The door opened slowly and Adrian stepped out, a badge was wrapped around his hand. David and Blane tried not to laugh.

"Get in." Adrian said in a serious and sour tone.

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><p><strong>So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry to anyone who was saddened about what I did with Oscar, Rose and Frank but I have always tried to have my M. series quite gritty. Please R&amp;R<strong>


	6. Washington

**I doubt anyone's even reading this anymore seeing how long I take between chapters. Still, hope you enjoy all the same.**

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><p>"Get in." Adrian said.<p>

He then turned back into the jet. Blane and David gave each other a childish smile before following him inside. The inside was mainly a sparkling white and sleek polished wooding. There were fine leather chairs that swivelled that lined the sides of the plane. Dylan was also on the plane and he too had a sour expression on his face.

"What do you think you've been doing?" Adrian angrily asked.

"What do you mean?" Blane asked confused.

"You've been parading around shooting up the place in countries you don't authorisation in. Did you even take the time to find anything out?"

"Yeah we've got a few things." David smirked

"Well please, enlighten me." Adrian arrogantly said as he sat down.

"Well the terrorist cell have their hands on nuclear material." David explained

"And they're heading to Washington." Blane added. Adrian nodded with a faint look of convincement but he was far from satisfied.

"Nuclear material? Well this is quite serious. And we already know they're in America. While you were playing cowboys we did some actual intelligence gathering. We spotted Major Richard Lynch crossing the border in Mexico a few days ago." Adrian opened and took out a picture of the Major to show them.

"That's the prick that shot me." David laughed, Blane joined in.

"We've been tracking him ever since and now that we have an idea of where he's going we can have men on the ground." Adrian looked away and rolled his eyes. "At least you've done one thing that's useful. Now go get cleaned up. I don't want you touching anything while you're this filthy."

The jet had a built in shower and one after another David and Blane got washed up, cleaning off any dust, dirt and rumble from the explosion. David redressed his wound, which he still hadn't bothered to get checked. There was a whole bunch of clothing items onboard the jet. Blane got dressed into a black suit, with a black tie to match. David got dressed for going into action. A white t-shirt with a cream ballistic vest that hung open, black combat trousers that had a holster for a pistol on one leg and a knife on the other. Once they were washed they joined the others.

"We'll be touching down in Washington in an hour." Adrian stated. Blane and David sat down. "We've spotted Lynch in Charlotte, North Carolina. He's heading north, fast."

"Right." David said unfazed, his mind elsewhere. "Baker, There's been something on my mind and I just haven't been able to shake it. The nuke in France, what was it doing there? Because I know France decommissioned its nuclear weapons programme after the Turkish conflict. So who would have given them it?" David looked out the window; he could see the east coast through the gaps in the clouds. "I'm also very curious to why the word _ARK_ was engraved on the missile." David smiled at Blane and looked back at Adrian. "Now that wouldn't have anything to do with Britain's ARK nuclear weapons programme." He finished sarcastically.

"What are you trying to get at?" Adrian asked, the anger slowly boiling inside him.

"Why were our nukes in France?" Blane replied with a smirk.

"That information," Adrian began as he spun around to talk to Blane, "is on a need-to-know basis." Dylan nodded in agreement with Adrian.

"Oh!" David sarcastically exclaimed as he rose from the chair. "It's a good thing we need to know." Blane and David smirked at one another.

"Don't forget who is in charge of this operation." Adrian stated as he rose, standing up to David. David turned to Blane and they both laughed at Adrian's attempt to be intimidating. Adrian's temper was not improving. Out of nowhere David punched Adrian in the face and he dropped back down into his chair, unconscious, his nose swelling.

"Now Dylan." David said in a sympathetic tone as he sat back down. "Usually I would break someone's legs for information but I doubt that'd work on you." David joked with an awkward face but quickly turning serious again. "So instead I'm just going to through you out the plane if you don't tell me what I want." The lump that suddenly gathered in Dylan's throat was so large that David could see it gather. "I'll let you choose if you go in the chair."

"It was just for precaution." Dylan blurted out immediately after David has finished talking. "We made a deal with the French to allow us to create a covert missile launch site. So if we needed to fire upon any country their defence systems wouldn't be able to pick it up until it was too late."

"See. That wasn't so hard." David patted Dylan on the shoulder. David grabbed a briefcase from under Adrian's seat. He set it on his lap and opened it up. Inside it was a range of gadgets and data. David took out two GPS' and two earpieces and tossed one of each to Blane. He then opened up a notebook that held their codenames and the call-signs for aerial support. He read their codenames and chuckled. "Hey Blane, so apparently you're _Vertigo_ and I'm _Psycho._"

"They really nailed you down didn't they?" Blane laughed. David went to contact their support.

"Blackbird, Blackbird. Come in Blackbird."

*This is Blackbird, over*

"This is Psycho. Coming into landing at Carver airport. Do you have eyes on target? Over."

*Affirmative. Lynch is on 495, heading for interstate 66. In white van, no license plate. Over*

"Roger." David ended his called and turned to Blane. "We've got less than 2 hours before they kick in the front doors to that conference."

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"I'm going to try chase down Lynch and Mr. Green on the highway. You're going to the conference. If I fail you have to do everything you can to stop them."

"And what If I fail?"

"Well if that happens that means both of us will already be dead, so we won't have to worry about what happens." David's jokes helped ease the pressure that was weighing on them.

The plane came into landing David holstered his .44 and they rushed off to long-term parking hanger. They burst through and were immediately met by a short parking attendant.

"You can't be here." The attendant squeaked. "Get out."

"Don't worry." David began as he lifted his magnum and pointed it in the attendant's face. "We won't be staying long." The Attendant put his hands up and backed up against the wall.

David instantly spotted it. A Hot Rod red 1973 Chevrolet Caprice classic convertible. His eyes lit up as he hopped inside it. Blane grabbed a Bentley. As the doors opened they both nodded to each other before driving in their separate directions.

"Blackbird give me coordinates on the van." David asked as he sped away.

Blane arrived at the Harrison as soon as he could. Hurrying up the steps the cheering of the crowds inside. The candidates were already on their podiums, lying about how they would make they country better. Blane stood vigilantly at the back of the darkened hall. He watched for any suspicious behaviour. The crowd stood, listening intently to the candidates and asked questions. There wasn't anything suspicious going on, and that made Blane even more suspicious. As Blane stood watching protectively over the people he heard a faint voice calling his name, a voice he hadn't heard in years but yet was still familiar to him. He slowly turned around and saw his old friend Stewart. They hadn't seen each other in years, even before the St. Hopes explosion, and now suddenly he was stood before him.

Stewart wore a light grey suit with fine polished black shoes. His hair was still darkened blonde but now had a few grey hairs that streaked back on both sides of his heads. He looked youthful and in great shape, unlike Blane.

"Blane? Is that you?" Stewart inquired. Blane didn't know what to say so he simply cracked an awkward smile. "It is you." Stewart's face lit up and he hugged Blane.

"Hey Stewart." Blane finally spoke, his face lighting up also. "It's been a long time."

"A long time?" Stewart said as they pulled out of the hug. "That's a bit of an understatement. Its been what? Over 30 years." Stewart gave Blane another quick hug.

"It's really good to see you." Blane then notice the small Green Blue Peter badge pinned to Stewarts lapel, a badge Stewart had got back during their secondary school days. Blane gave brief chuckle. "You still going strong for a Green world." Stewart looked down at the badge and smiled.

"Well we all want a better world." He paused for a moment, like suddenly having an epiphany. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Me?" Blane panicked for an answer, "I'm working for the security firm here."

"Cool." Stewart seemed convinced. "You going to use your martial art moves" Stewart stated as he jokingly went into a karate pose. They both shared a laugh.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm with a civil and humanitarian rights group. I'm going to be questioning the candidates about some of their policies."

The Candidates. Blane suddenly remember what was the pressing matter at hand. He needed to keep focused but he didn't want to blow off Stewart, he had done that too many times in school. But he had to think of the greater good. Something he fought for all these years

"I should get back to my post." Blane reluctantly stated. Stewart showed an understanding smile. Just as Blane was about to walk away Stewart put his hand on Blane's shoulder.

"And Blane. I'm so sorry about Daisy. I know she meant everything about you."

Blane didn't say anything, just gave a polite smile and a nod. Stewart began to leave and Blane continued to observe the area. Blane looked over in Stewart's direction but he was nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile David was still on the trail of the van. He sped through the city, the helicopter informing him of the van's location. He weaved through the other cars at great speed. He was getting close.

"Blackbird. Where are they?"

*Lynch is just about to make it onto the Roosevelt Memorial Bridge. You better catch up quick*

"Roger that." David span his car around and drove up onto the highway, the wrong way. He swerved through the oncoming cars and honks.

He got onto the bridge and spotted the van 100 metres ahead of him. He rushed up against and made himself parallel with the van, Lynch in the passenger seat while another man drove. They took a moment to notice David but when they did Lynch recognised him instantly. Lynch leaned over and opened fire. David hunched sideways to dodge the bullets. He poked his head slightly over the dashboard to see where he was. Lynch kept firing so David slowed down and fell back out of the line of fire. David sat up straight and focused himself. He pulled out his 44. and readied himself to fire. He slowly crept next to the van and as he got close enough he sped up right against the van and open fire rapidly into the van, killing the driver. David pulled away, getting out of harms way of the coming wreck. The van slowed down and the driver's corpse that had slumped over the wheel caused the van to make a rapid turn and flip onto its side. The van toppled a few metres before finally stopping and remaining upside down. David slowed down and got out.

The passenger door kicked open and fell off and out stumbled Lynch, bleeding and holding the metal briefcase in his hands. David aimed his gun and Lynch backed up against the barrier of the interstate. He glanced behind himself, as David demanded he drop the case. Suddenly he turned and jumped off the interstate onto the highway below. David rushed to the edge and saw Lynch had jumped onto the back of an articulated truck. David gritted his teeth and swore loudly. He sprinted across the interstate to the leaped off immediately. His body flew across as the truck passed under him. Gravity gradually brought him down to earth and he was able to grab onto the back of the truck. The wind blasted against David's face as he climbed up. At the other end of the truck stood Lynch, still holding the case. David got on his feet and steadied himself. He faced off against Lynch. He stared deep into David's eyes and had a menacing smile planted upon his face. Lynch readied himself in a battle stance, prepared to take David on.

"I can't be arsed with this?" David said with a sigh as he looked away.

He charged at Lynch, tackling him with great force that sent them both the truck. They shot across the air and down onto the roof of a car that was driving alongside the truck. Then rolled across it and smashed down onto the hard concrete ground. They finally rolled down a ditch, hitting a series of rocks at the bottom.

David opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurred. He looked around himself and could vaguely see Lynch crawling away towards the case that was lying in the dirt. David got up as his mind cleared and made his way to Lynch. Lynch was severely injured. Bone's were shattered and shot out of his body; his ribs collapsed and were stabbing his organs. David slowly made his way over to Lynch, stumbling a little as he tried find his balance. He finally made it to Lynch and planted his boot onto Lynch's back. Lynch screamed, as David turned onto his face to face up at him.

"Who is Mr Green?" David demanded. Lynch didn't answer. David stomped down on his rib cage. Lynch howled in pain and started to cough up blood. David knelt down beside him and wrapped his fist around Lynch top. "Who is he?" David punched him in the face. Lynch began to gargle, trying to speak but couldn't through the blood. "A Name!"

"Cr…..Cri….Critchley." Lynch answered with his final breath before fading into death. David closed Lynch's eyes and lay him down to rest in peace.

"Vertigo. We've got a name."

Blane met up with David outside the Harrison building. David was bleeding from his eyebrow and was cover and dirt and dust. People were staring at him on the street. Blane took a double take once he caught a glimpse of David. They met at the steps and David cracked an exhausted smiled.

"We've done it." David said out of breath as he held up the briefcase and handing it to Blane. "Lets go grab a drink."

Suddenly a long jet-black limo pulled up next to them. The doors opened and out stepped a couple of secret service agents. After them a small woman with ginger hair stepped out. She was aging, the wrinkles starting to show on her face. She was dressed like a businesswoman but without a tie and wore a pearl necklace.

"Hello Viktor." The woman sternly said.

"Hello Joanne." David replied displeased and tired. "What do you want?"

"You of course. Seeing how you're an agent from a hostile agency, operating on U.S soil, you're in quite a bit of trouble." She turned and smiled at Blane, "Ah, Agent Whittaker. I've heard so much about you." Blane didn't reply. She looked down at the case. "Though I will have to tank both of you for handling this. We couldn't have people finding out the big hitters in a terrorist organisation with ex-special forces. Now Agent Viktor, would you kindly?" She gestured towards the limo. They began to get in.

"Hey Blane." David said as he turned before getting in. "I was able to get a name out of Lynch just before he died… Critchley" David then got in the limo and drove away, leaving Blane with this horrific revelation.

Blane couldn't believe it. He couldn't. He'd know him for years. Could something have happened after all these years apart? Blane's mind was spinning with thoughts. He looked across the street for a moment and saw Stewart, standing amongst the swarm of pedestrians just going about their day, unaware they could have died only hours ago. Stewart showed a faint smile before disappearing. Blane was done with this.

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><p><strong>PLOT TWIST! so yeah what do you think? please review<strong>


	7. The Painful Truth

**So yeah I'm just going to wrap this up here. I just wanted to finish this up before I leave for Uni. I make reference to a chapter in "Finding The Rogue" so you'll want to read that to understand this chapter. This is a pretty depressing chapter just so you know. Enjoy**

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><p>Blane stood there in disbelief, frozen in shock. He soon shook it off and instantly hailed a taxi. He got in and headed back to the airport. Blane made his way onto the airfield and got the jet, which was still parked in the strip. Adrian was stood out side, his nose pink and swollen, with a sour expression on his face. As Blane got closer Adrian opened his mouth, about to rant about misconduct and how they were disrespectful and recklessness but Blane wasn't having any of it. He shoved the case into Adrian's chest, stopping him in his instantly.<p>

"I'm done." Blane said aggressively with his teeth gritted. Blane then turned around began to walk away.

"Hey!" Baker exclaimed. "There's still more of them out there. They might try another attack. You can't just walk away from this."

"Will guess what. I just did." Blane answered as he kept walking. Baker didn't responded. He simply huffed and stormed back onto the jet.

Blane called in a favour and hopped on a cargo plane bound for London. After a long flight, in which Blane spent every minute going through every detail of the operation, he arrived home. Back to the dark and dingy city of London and back to a flat vacant of positive emotion and filled of shattered memories. Blane got to the front door and took a deep breath before entering. The flat was pitch black. Near impossible to see anything. He flicked on the lights and jumped slightest at the sight before him. It was Stewart; he was standing the middle of his living room.

"Hello Blane." Stewart said, breaking the nervous silence.

"What you doing here?" Blane demanded to know.

"Opening your eyes." Stewart revealed a file marked _classified_. He also pulled out a pistol and placed both down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Why? Why do all this? You wouldn't have hurt a fly back in school."

"That's right. But that was a long time ago. I use to try and save the world peacefully but that never got me anywhere and it got me killed, in a sense." He paused for a moment. "Two words. Operation, Wipeout." Blane froze instantly. "I was one of those men you were ordered to kill. I escaped from that burning car, with only moments to spare. My friends, men who believed in peace, were killed just because they were a thorn in the government's side."

"What's in the file?"

"This?" he pointed down at it. "This is a file that doesn't exist. It's a file on Daisy. A file on her death." Blane's stopped and legs weakened, almost collapsing right there on the spot. "You see, Daisy found out about Wipeout. She found out about my group. She found out about the villagers. The only thing she didn't know was the fact is was you. So I guess luckily for you she didn't know you had become a monster before she died. You didn't really think it was an accident did you?"

Blane couldn't say anything; he didn't know what he could say. There was a complete silence between the two. Stewart then began to leave, leaving both the file and the pistol behind. Blane didn't stop him. Just before leaving Stewart stopped next to Blane, keeping his eyes forward, he couldn't look Blane in the eyes, not now.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this. But you had to learn the truth at some point. No matter how painful it might be." And with that he was gone.

Blane stood and stared at the file sitting. He slowly made his way to it. He sat down in the chair and hesitatingly picked it up. As he opened he saw most of it had been blacked out. In the file there was a picture of her. She looked so beautiful. He missed her so much. Blane read through all the information that wasn't blacked out

'Intel has indicated that Agent Miller has been going through level 8 classified information. Intel suggests she has learnt of Operation: Wipeout.'

'Further Surveillance confirms Miller has taken the file on Wipeout. Surveillance will continue.'

'After taping of emails and phone intel has confirmed Agent Miller has contacted journalist Niall Matthews at the Guardian. She is planning on meeting him to pass over information. Instant action is recommended.'

'Action has been authorised. Operation: Lawnmower will be executed in 24 hours'

'Operation was successful. Total cover-up achieved.'

Then Blane found the most hallowing piece. It was Daisy's post-mortem, her original. The report Blane had been given was altered. Now Blane wished he had never seen the original.

The report stated "Daisy Miller, 34, was 3 weeks pregnant at the time of death."

Instantly tears began to stream down Blane's face. He glanced over at the gun. He then stared at it. It seemed like his best option. It seemed like his only option. Blane slowly reached over and picked it up, his hand shaking from nerves. He took the safety off and gripped it tightly.

This was it. No more loneliness. No more pain. He was going to be with Daisy again, he could almost her voice, whispering to him.

"Goodbye." His final words.

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><p><strong>Right that's it. He'd dead. This will hopefully put an end to my M. series, unless I develop a new team. I think people have stopped reading my stuff but if you are reading this then I'm sorry about the abrupt ending...And sorry for killing two of the fans most loved characters.<strong>


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